My first contact with a phony was about 18 years ago. A co-worker with the same title that I had, same pay, same duties, came up to me one day during lunch and gave me his card. We didn't have business cards in our department since our primary clients were internal departments and not the public. To reach us was as simple as sending an inter-office memo or an internal office phone call. So you can imagine my puzzled look on my face when I take his card and it stated his title as CEO of a company I had never heard of. Yes, a Chief Executive Officer.
My understanding of what a CEO was had to do with the corporate structure I'd "grown up" with. I'd become quite knowledgeable on who was who on the executive level, what their backgrounds were, their experience, their skill-sets. I also had worked with this guy for about six years and I was pretty sure that I hadn't seen him in any Forbes or Inc magazine articles but I had never seen him featured in our own company newsletter.
Now I didn't judge, I was simply perplexed. Most CEOs were making six figures (remember, this was last Century) and well, they didn't punch in a time clock the way we did. I was mildly curious and I figured he could of course be some eccentric and crazy person who worked alongside the rest of us just to see what real life among the middle class was like. Yet there was something inside my gut telling me this guy was not only being disingenuous but ballsy when he gave himself this title.
Look, I have come to know many people who not only held a full time job but also tried to start a business at home. Twenty years ago to have a business card was a sign that you were on the way up or already there and if my co-worker had started a business then kudos to him. Yet to use the title of someone who you would expect oversaw a company that was either already established or possibly had hundreds of employees or whose cash flow had enough zeros on it to sort of make that connection a much easier one but he had none of that.
I asked him how many employees did he have and he said it was just him and a partner. I asked him how many years had his company been established and he said he was saving up to incorporate himself. I asked him how did he receive payment for his services (he was into organizing night club parties - sound familiar) and he said he was a CASH ONLY business. He used his beeper as his method of communication and while there were websites back then, he didn't have one.
So I did the only thing a girl like me, daughter to a former NYPD Homicide Detective, knew how to do. I looked him up in the yellow pages. I called the operator on my rotary phone and asked for the number of that company. Nothing. I got nothing. Then I called the Better Business Bureau but knew better to really dig because I remembered he said he'd been saving up for the legal fees to incorporate himself.
Fast forward two decades. The internet is a black hole of domain names. You could fill our own universe with the number of at-home businesses with a company of just one employee that filled out forms only to sputter and lose gas before really getting anywhere. I don't look down on any of them as they've gotten farther than those who are working out of their garage or den, using Paypal or Quickpay and filling their 1099s (so the government hopes) every year and who haven't made it official yet. Heck, I've tried my hand at two businesses, followed all the steps and after a few really HARD years I realized I couldn't serve two masters: my full time job that helped me sustain a lifestyle that would raise three boys versus my passion, whose cause and reasons sustained my need for fulfillment and satisfaction that I was indeed making a difference in my community.
Hey, I'm more of an idealist than a capitalist. At least I figured that out. I guess I'll never be THAT kinda financially rich.
After two decades working in cyberspace, going from a graphic designer, to a website developer, to an internet business solutions consultant and then a cyber publicist (came up with that title all on my own too in 2000) and now an internet data tracker and Internet Business Solutions Consultant I am in awe of all the phonies out there. Everyone has an e-book they want to sell and so many actually do! Yes, they get a hint of what the latest trend is and they slap ten quick buzz words or steps together and if they network their affiliations to other companies just right (because after all it wouldn't be an e-book if it didn't have a million links to MORE products and services) then for as little as FREE (hint: NOTHING IS EVER FREE, especially if you end up on a Squeeze or Landing page that wants everything about you, practically your first born - of which many will sell to third parties because they do need to make money off of you now) and the sky (because desperate times calls for desperate measures and if what looks like a popular e-book costs $49.99 then it must be legit right?!)
I've given so much free advice over the years that I'm sure if I had simply charged a dollar I could have bought a nice new car by now. So imagine my shock and then my laughing fit of hysteria when a colleague who had been constantly asking for free advice for years, stumble onto my own website, asked me for some more advice and THEN announced that he too should become a consultant. Dude? You suck. You come to me for advice, you don't do half the stuff I recommend and you have no track record, nothing you can show prospective clients, no testimonials but you want to hang a shingle in cyberspace and call yourself a marketing consultant? Sadly, he's not the only one! There's another person who meets up with new young and hungry young people looking to learn how to break into internet businesses. He promises them that if they hire him he can help their businesses grow and yet, the man is in debt up to his eyeballs and his own online presence is about as visible to the human eye as Pluto is on a CLEAR night.
Finding the actual experts, the real deals has become as rare as finding unpolluted water in West Virginia. Nowadays you can doctor up a profile and repeat it often enough so that the world will believe it and yet have no substance, no real ability to do what you your profile says you can do and make tons of money without actually producing a result. AND if this is how you make a living and you can sleep at nights then hey, Bernie Madoff sure slept well for quite a few decades but look at him now. Besides, since the beginning of time, snake oil salesmen and phony medicine men claiming to be able to cure all that ails you has been out there, except now, they have a cool business card or website or a gimmick that takes your money now and doesn't answer questions later. Caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware.
As to the real deals out there, and I know quite a few of them, I thank you. You hang touch in a sea of phonies and you do what you do, fighting to get seen or heard throw the roar of BS. You smile nicely to clients who come to you only AFTER they've been swindled and you make payment plans to help them because they spent their money on the shiny fast talking snake oil salesmen who sold them a bill of goods and now you have to clean up the mess. You should have been the first choice had they DONE THEIR HOMEWORK and not been so fast to hire the first thing they saw on the Google Search for those well-paid for keywords. There is a sure fire way to identify you and that's by talking to you and seeing your track record. Also by talking to those in your area and business community. The one great thing about identifying excellence is that you don't have to be liked but I'll bet you're sure as heck respected.
So, if you're ever in need of an expert, do your homework and if you go around telling everyone that you're an expert, you sure as heck better know what you're talking about because a business card calling you one doesn't make it so and knowing a few tricks doesn't make you a consultant, just a waste of people's time, energy and money.
Carmen M. Colon is a mother, an engineer, an author and a workshop facilitator on the topics of leadership, womens empowerment, career advancement, social branding, social media marketing and internet business solutions.
She is working on a free e-book sans squeeze or landing page (she's gone cyber media rogue!) as well as one that offers solutions to cyber businesses new and old on how "do-it-yourself" cyber market your website.
Her personal website is http://carmenmcolon.info
Her online professional resume can be found on linkedin.com at http://linkedin.com/in/carmenmcolon
Her company is Gotham Cyber Media Solutions. http://gothamcyber.net
Her books can be found online: http://amazon.com/author/carmencolon
Friday, January 17, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Michael Bublé - Close Your Eyes [Official Video]
Some days I need to remember why I am here.
I remembered why today.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Hidden In Plain Sight
We all do it. There are times we feel as if we are not ourselves and so we pretend everything is alright just to get home or to a place where we feel safe. Whether it’s at a party, or at the office or in church, there are those times when everything we feel, see or even touch feels foreign and out of place.
Some would insist that sounds like an emotional problem, others a possible chemical imbalance in your body. I suppose both could be possible but I’ve come to understand my suit of armor much differently. Those walls you hear and read about in lyrics are real and yes, they can be felt, even climbed. They are made by our fears of the unknown or fear of being hurt and they create an anxiety and stress that always seems to manifest itself in the weirdest ways.
For me it’s huge parties on holidays. I don’t really like them and yet I am known for throwing them. I find that some turn out to be amazing and fabulous memories and then there are those few that made me feel as if I was living an out of body experience, me just going through the motions. So why create the very atmosphere that might make me spend an evening of discomfort? To live. To see if they lessen and to truly try to enjoy those who have been caring and sharing over the year.
We are constantly besieged in this country with bad news, so much so that many do not watch the news as much as it was customary thirty years ago. The anxiety of the next sad or bad thing to happen, and life being difficult as it is, and yet more and more depend on social media to find those connections that going out to the park or even to the department store once brought us.
Which brings us to the most amazing of realizations – where else but online, in cyberspace can you pretend to be who you want to be, it is all masks. It is all smoke and mirrors. It is also the key to freedom if you use it to free yourself. Where else can you learn a new skill, take on a new passion, meet other communities and learn about new cultures.
People hide in plain sight I suppose because we all want to feel and be safe and when times are rough, looking for distraction and escape seems to be the road to least resistance. Yet, it can also be the road less traveled and more difficult but the most rewarding. Either get busy worrying and hiding or get busy exploring, asking questions and learning. Moving forward will get you somewhere a whole lot quicker than standing still or hiding out in your cubicle, in your classroom, on your couch or even – in your head.
Monday, December 16, 2013
It's A Thin Line Between "Law" And "Lose" - The Heartbreaking Truth About Homeowning
Ever since we were small we were told that a huge portion of the American Dream was owning your own home. I don't think it matters where you came from, it simply always was an indication of having succeeded in life. For so many people it meant more than just a place to call your own, it was a further shrugging off of years of struggle for one's family line. I know what it feels like to be the first in a long line of family to have accomplished a goal before any other generation. While my father went to college at night, he was the first in our family to graduate and when I did, I was the first woman. These things resonate far greater than just the chance to add a few zeroes to our salaries. We were setting trends for our family line, setting examples for our children and their children and so the accomplishment was held dearly to us.
It never bothered me that I needed a government program to qualify for my home. In fact I was quite proud that with help from my country I was going to begin creating a foundation in my community and I set about to not only be a model resident but to see how my presence can help others there. I was and wanted to be a true and dedicated "daughter" of NY. While all the paperwork was quite intimidating it was my love for the law that saw me through the first grip of fear. The mountain of forms, all so alien, a language that only lawyers could volley back and forth with ease, was daunting to say the least that even this engineer was timid.
I'd wanted to be a lawyer most of my life but engineering was the focus in my school and so my love of math and science began to overshadow my love of justice and order. I reached out to the spouse of a friend, a real estate attorney and with the stars aligned, so many of my friends pitching in, I happily signed the mortgage to my quaint one family house for me and my sons in the Summer of 2005. I was frightened at the responsibilities (many to be thrust upon me almost immediately and the rest almost stealthily as if to knock me off my foundation all together) but I had faith, in me, my desire to do right by my sons and my city.
It didn't take very long to find out that a two hour class is nothing but a horrible joke to a new home owner. No one can really prepare you for what happens next. If is as if the city agencies wakes from it's monstrous sleep and notices you all of a sudden. Now you are beholden to all of them for something. The money you thought you made and would be enough to exist in this new found "freedom" isn't and realistically could never be if you don't wrangle very quickly everything that you will now be responsible for.
You are expected to pay for garbage, even if it's not your own but thrown on your property, you pay for water, for heat, for gas, for light, cable if you can afford it. I laugh because I am sure I'm not the first, nor the last homeowner, whose first purchase was a nice TV and hooking up cable so that the boys and I could enjoy watching in our very own home a major motion picture, just as we'd seen so many other families do on television.
We are responsible for shoveling snow immediately following a snowstorm. (you have three hours grace or that ticket will find its way into your mailbox) You should know your recycling schedule inside and out, sweep every day, even if your nasty neighbors are the cause for all the mess, make sure that there are no pebbles or tree roots or obstructions that might cause an accident or you, yes you HOME OWNER will be held liable.
I used to want to be a lawyer, until I began having trouble making ends meet in 2008. Then the mortgage lender began making threats that scared even a staunch advocate like me. They could and would ruin my credit if I didn't hurry up and comply with their demands and then I'd get the calls offering these olive branches which were really horrible scams to get me to sign away my rights and my life's finances and according to them it was legal. I was being shaken down and I didn't see it until I was in a strange office surrounded by smiling lawyers, all who worked for the lender who tried to explain that although the refinance wasn't what I had expected it was the best I could get and so if I kept asking questions and refused to sign then all I'd need to do was pay a few thousand dollars and walk out. But it's because I was struggling that I was there to begin with and I stood there cornered, being made to feel small and unprepared and foolish.
It became worse after that first deal with the devil. The more life and the municipalities shoveled onto my wavering back, with fees for this and fines for that, I found myself getting ill, terribly ill. By this time I was working three jobs, my nine to five and as many part time jobs and projects as I could handle. It lasted a year and then the floodgates broke. I spent six months in bed, doctors (when I could afford to go) kept telling me I was working myself into an early grave and truthfully that sounded quite restful and lucrative, for my sons at least. No amount of studying could bring me up to speed to every pitfall that could and would befall a home owner in this town and this town didn't care what you knew or didn't know - pay up or we're coming after the house.
By the second refinance scam where I tried to thwart the NEW mortgage lender off by hiring an attorney for almost a quarter of my retirement savings I had come to realize a little too late that I had entered a red light district and that I was the gullible tourist whose only recourse is to either let them fleece you a little bit or barely escape with your life. The attorney walked away with all the money and did nothing to keep the wolves at bey.
It was never my intent to be someone so in debt that doing nothing was ever an option but four years later, two lawyers later, three college tuitions, utilities and car payments, water bills quadrupled with no notice later, I am so in debt that sometimes I feel death could wash it all away and at least my sons would have a shot at a life. Thoughts of moving mean nothing, your credit rating follows you and the bank made sure to tether me to this Titanic. My American Dream was a living nightmare and one I couldn't burden my sons with because while all this was happening, at least I'd had a sense to make their lives matter more.
Fast forward and now I am a Pro Se Debtor. Nice. It means I'm on my own. It means that the fear that gripped me from fighting had better find it's guts now or in a year the house that I've raised my sons in for the last eight years will be sold out from under me. No one mentioned that you had to answer the summons by going TO A COURT HOUSE until it was too late but what the hell, I believe in miracles and while I have amazing friends who said they'd help and truly tried, I knew that it was my sense of failure that drove my maniacal drive to work 80-90 hours on things that might bear fruit so that I could at least have options if the time came to leave this place.
I've told the boys and I do thank goodness that I was able to accomplish my mission: to raise my sons in a haven of consistency, a place they knew that was theirs to begin with, where they could lay their heads at night and feel safe and sure and energized every morning so that they could face the day and the world with strength and conviction. I did that. My youngest is almost out of high school and while there is still that chance that he and I might have to find a small place next year, at least I know the brunt of my work has been done.
I wanted to be a lawyer when I grew up and dealing with those who preyed on the unknowing has soured me considerably. Yet when I speak to my friends, the lawyers, the Supermans, the ones who go out to save the days for others, I may feel sheepish about how caught out there I was but they tell me I'm one of millions, all being taken advantage of. It seems it's easy money to swindle a family than it is to help it thrive and possibly earn a lifelong customer. After all we seem to be only a dime a dozen.
I loved order, the law and I might lose to someone else's brand of it. Then again, miracles do happen and maybe I'm walking from one fire into an amazing opportunity to help others. I have always loved finding the positive in things for others and I guess it's time I look at the positive in this - it may take a while.
So here goes, as I fill out my answer, truthfully, humbly, that I never set out to be a resident who simply couldn't comply with all of the city's rules and mazes of conditions to just live here and that now I may never be able to find something for me and my son if the bank takes the house. I don't think anyone goes in thinking all that, it's just they entered into a place that only few can truly survive. It is so sad that so many fall when if we all were able to thrive this city would be so much better off.
I love the law. I still do. There are lawyers out there still fighting for the little people. There are judges who know that someone means it when they say that given a fair shake they'd make good on their debt and there are miracles every day. As I get closer to the end of this eight year nightmare I find I'm letting go of the death grip of fear I've had all these years, the one where there is a knock at the door and my sons and I are forced to find someplace else to live. Well, I guess it's time. Let's do this.
Carmen M. Colon is a mother, an engineer, an education and childrens advocate, an author and a workshop facilitator on the topics of leadership, womens empowerment, career advancement and now on parenting. She is writing a series of "Dear Kids" letters to her three sons on a series of topics and issues.
Her website is http://carmenmcolon.info
Her books can be found online: http://amazon.com/author/carmencolon
It never bothered me that I needed a government program to qualify for my home. In fact I was quite proud that with help from my country I was going to begin creating a foundation in my community and I set about to not only be a model resident but to see how my presence can help others there. I was and wanted to be a true and dedicated "daughter" of NY. While all the paperwork was quite intimidating it was my love for the law that saw me through the first grip of fear. The mountain of forms, all so alien, a language that only lawyers could volley back and forth with ease, was daunting to say the least that even this engineer was timid.
I'd wanted to be a lawyer most of my life but engineering was the focus in my school and so my love of math and science began to overshadow my love of justice and order. I reached out to the spouse of a friend, a real estate attorney and with the stars aligned, so many of my friends pitching in, I happily signed the mortgage to my quaint one family house for me and my sons in the Summer of 2005. I was frightened at the responsibilities (many to be thrust upon me almost immediately and the rest almost stealthily as if to knock me off my foundation all together) but I had faith, in me, my desire to do right by my sons and my city.
It didn't take very long to find out that a two hour class is nothing but a horrible joke to a new home owner. No one can really prepare you for what happens next. If is as if the city agencies wakes from it's monstrous sleep and notices you all of a sudden. Now you are beholden to all of them for something. The money you thought you made and would be enough to exist in this new found "freedom" isn't and realistically could never be if you don't wrangle very quickly everything that you will now be responsible for.
You are expected to pay for garbage, even if it's not your own but thrown on your property, you pay for water, for heat, for gas, for light, cable if you can afford it. I laugh because I am sure I'm not the first, nor the last homeowner, whose first purchase was a nice TV and hooking up cable so that the boys and I could enjoy watching in our very own home a major motion picture, just as we'd seen so many other families do on television.
We are responsible for shoveling snow immediately following a snowstorm. (you have three hours grace or that ticket will find its way into your mailbox) You should know your recycling schedule inside and out, sweep every day, even if your nasty neighbors are the cause for all the mess, make sure that there are no pebbles or tree roots or obstructions that might cause an accident or you, yes you HOME OWNER will be held liable.
I used to want to be a lawyer, until I began having trouble making ends meet in 2008. Then the mortgage lender began making threats that scared even a staunch advocate like me. They could and would ruin my credit if I didn't hurry up and comply with their demands and then I'd get the calls offering these olive branches which were really horrible scams to get me to sign away my rights and my life's finances and according to them it was legal. I was being shaken down and I didn't see it until I was in a strange office surrounded by smiling lawyers, all who worked for the lender who tried to explain that although the refinance wasn't what I had expected it was the best I could get and so if I kept asking questions and refused to sign then all I'd need to do was pay a few thousand dollars and walk out. But it's because I was struggling that I was there to begin with and I stood there cornered, being made to feel small and unprepared and foolish.
It became worse after that first deal with the devil. The more life and the municipalities shoveled onto my wavering back, with fees for this and fines for that, I found myself getting ill, terribly ill. By this time I was working three jobs, my nine to five and as many part time jobs and projects as I could handle. It lasted a year and then the floodgates broke. I spent six months in bed, doctors (when I could afford to go) kept telling me I was working myself into an early grave and truthfully that sounded quite restful and lucrative, for my sons at least. No amount of studying could bring me up to speed to every pitfall that could and would befall a home owner in this town and this town didn't care what you knew or didn't know - pay up or we're coming after the house.
By the second refinance scam where I tried to thwart the NEW mortgage lender off by hiring an attorney for almost a quarter of my retirement savings I had come to realize a little too late that I had entered a red light district and that I was the gullible tourist whose only recourse is to either let them fleece you a little bit or barely escape with your life. The attorney walked away with all the money and did nothing to keep the wolves at bey.
It was never my intent to be someone so in debt that doing nothing was ever an option but four years later, two lawyers later, three college tuitions, utilities and car payments, water bills quadrupled with no notice later, I am so in debt that sometimes I feel death could wash it all away and at least my sons would have a shot at a life. Thoughts of moving mean nothing, your credit rating follows you and the bank made sure to tether me to this Titanic. My American Dream was a living nightmare and one I couldn't burden my sons with because while all this was happening, at least I'd had a sense to make their lives matter more.
Fast forward and now I am a Pro Se Debtor. Nice. It means I'm on my own. It means that the fear that gripped me from fighting had better find it's guts now or in a year the house that I've raised my sons in for the last eight years will be sold out from under me. No one mentioned that you had to answer the summons by going TO A COURT HOUSE until it was too late but what the hell, I believe in miracles and while I have amazing friends who said they'd help and truly tried, I knew that it was my sense of failure that drove my maniacal drive to work 80-90 hours on things that might bear fruit so that I could at least have options if the time came to leave this place.
I've told the boys and I do thank goodness that I was able to accomplish my mission: to raise my sons in a haven of consistency, a place they knew that was theirs to begin with, where they could lay their heads at night and feel safe and sure and energized every morning so that they could face the day and the world with strength and conviction. I did that. My youngest is almost out of high school and while there is still that chance that he and I might have to find a small place next year, at least I know the brunt of my work has been done.
I wanted to be a lawyer when I grew up and dealing with those who preyed on the unknowing has soured me considerably. Yet when I speak to my friends, the lawyers, the Supermans, the ones who go out to save the days for others, I may feel sheepish about how caught out there I was but they tell me I'm one of millions, all being taken advantage of. It seems it's easy money to swindle a family than it is to help it thrive and possibly earn a lifelong customer. After all we seem to be only a dime a dozen.
I loved order, the law and I might lose to someone else's brand of it. Then again, miracles do happen and maybe I'm walking from one fire into an amazing opportunity to help others. I have always loved finding the positive in things for others and I guess it's time I look at the positive in this - it may take a while.
So here goes, as I fill out my answer, truthfully, humbly, that I never set out to be a resident who simply couldn't comply with all of the city's rules and mazes of conditions to just live here and that now I may never be able to find something for me and my son if the bank takes the house. I don't think anyone goes in thinking all that, it's just they entered into a place that only few can truly survive. It is so sad that so many fall when if we all were able to thrive this city would be so much better off.
I love the law. I still do. There are lawyers out there still fighting for the little people. There are judges who know that someone means it when they say that given a fair shake they'd make good on their debt and there are miracles every day. As I get closer to the end of this eight year nightmare I find I'm letting go of the death grip of fear I've had all these years, the one where there is a knock at the door and my sons and I are forced to find someplace else to live. Well, I guess it's time. Let's do this.
Carmen M. Colon is a mother, an engineer, an education and childrens advocate, an author and a workshop facilitator on the topics of leadership, womens empowerment, career advancement and now on parenting. She is writing a series of "Dear Kids" letters to her three sons on a series of topics and issues.
Her website is http://carmenmcolon.info
Her books can be found online: http://amazon.com/author/carmencolon
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Dear Sons, You're Not What You Eat But You Are What's Eating You!
Dear boys,
Mommy has always been a "fatty". I do not know what it is like to grow up thin or fit, I was that pudgy girl that was teased and stared at in school. To this day some of my elders take joy in retelling stories about how voracious my appetite was as a child. I hate those stories. But the truth is I am emotional eater and so when that line about "you are what you eat" came about I looked in the mirror and wondered, "is this what a pork shoulder really looks like?"
Over the course of all these decades I only now realized just how in control of ourselves we really are. After all, we ate when we were happy, when we were sad, angry, frustrated and we definitely ate when we were bored! It didn't help things that my two favorite past times had absolutely nothing to do with being physically active! I loved reading and watching television! I loved the two distractions that taught me how to dream as well as hide.
Let me tell you something about being bullied in school because I was different from the other kids. Back in my day (goodness I can not believe I have to write that sometimes!) being heavy was unusual. I was the biggest kid by those standards and yet today I'd probably be in the middle of the pack. Yet kids are cruel and they learn that cruelty at home sometimes because their frustrated parents get diarrhea of the mouth and let it all hang out in front of the kids. You know what I'm talking about, your mom's not immune. There are those days mom comes in bitching about some reckless driver or the nut who didn't clean up after themselves at the office break room. I get judgmental when I'm frustrated, I'm human. Yet I'm reminded of the days when boys teased me and girls were so mean to me, simply because I was larger than them.
You know Mom is better for it now don't you? You've heard me say, "Mom's larger than life! Of course she has to be a bit bigger than the rest!" I am much happier with my body nowadays, although I still find myself grimacing at photographs! (yes believe it, smart alecks) It took me 47 years to realize that how I was feeling was how I was feeding myself. Now bullying is a whole other sets of letters believe you me but self esteem and self awareness are things I hope I've taught you all well enough so that you don't have to endure all the suffering I did within my very own head.
The power is yours. It always has been. The power to believe what you're told by others lies with you. The power to start a bad habit or stop one is yours. The power to believe what people say about you because you're different lies in your head, in your heart. Yes, we can buy that five pound tub of ice cream but what's the rule? One cup a day, if that, and never to self medicate ourselves because we're feeling something very strongly. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the same with wine but I'm not on that topic now am I!
Of course all of this seems reasonable until you're besieged with name calling or dirty looks in school or at the office. Then your body starts freaking out and you want to hide and sometimes there simply is nowhere to hide so you hide in that tub of ice cream.
Your big brother went on an interview the other day and was asked what type of food are you. (First of all what Human Resources person comes up with these questions? Who are they channeling? Barbara Walters during her brain fart moment when she asked Katherine Hepburn if you were a tree what type of tree would you be???) But my darling eldest said he was celery and his reasoning behind it made me proud. (the fact that you are as slim as one sometimes gets on my nerves but we all can't be this amazing and curvaceous can we Beulah) He said he was healthy and mobile. Like celery. Goodness my son is brilliant. He equated his food as the resource it was, explained its functionality and its appeal. Pure genius, I'd hire him.
As I sit here, looking at my one egg and tomato omelette on toast I am reminded of those feelings being squelched after the first mouthful. I am reminded of a sense of love practically warming my young unknowing frame as I went through that pint of Haagan Daz after the last break up. Well,at least I loved me as I ate it to medicate my senses and put salve on my bruised ego. And this was just last year!
You are all coming to those wonderful ages of 18, 21 and 25! (Translation: Mommy is free! Kinda, sorta) I watch how you eat and if I haven't taught you how to care for yourselves by now I never will. You all eat in moderation, for the most part. You all have your indulging moments but I see you reward yourselves and so I know it's more of a present than a punishment. It's good to see how Mommy has handled things and then talk about it right! Those nights mom cried into her Lamb Korma, or Shrimp Scampi, or Tuna Sushi Rolls, hey, mom loves food! Or when I was pouring over IRS forms (last week) and was eyeing that Carvel Cake commercial like it was porn! Did you know that small Carvel Cakes are now $20! Goodness, are the milk prices that high in Carvel Land, what the hell!!
Mom's eating habits have gotten much much better and you know what, so has her outlook. I eat to live and while I love to eat, I plan for those times when I want to indulge in sinfully wonderful tasting foods. I try to examine when I'm in a foul mood or just moody period. Most of the time it's an old insecurity rearing its ugly head and I have to talk myself off that ledge. We all want to be loved and appreciated, to be respected and to feel relevant and needed. We give those distinctions to ourselves boys, not other people. We certainly don't get what we want from others out of a food container (or a bottle) either.
You all are so handsome and healthy in your long, lanky and lean frames and the chunky little girl in me is so glad that you don't have to endure what I did, what I sometimes still feel like in my own skin. You don't have that fear of being rejected or looked at as being weak or less appealing. Life is funny, human beings even funnier. For that is good in the world people would rather put high marks on body size than on what a person contributes to their every day life and those around them.
Thank goodness you are all so much better at it than your Mom. So go on and be that celery and be healthy! Mom's working on it and she's right now trying to look like a very sexy veggie/fruit smoothie, in a figure eight glass of course. I'm actually enjoying the freedom and the power to choose the foods I'm taking in and not giving into the feelings that come across my brain every day.
Oh by the way boys, someone has to go back to the store. We're out of ice cream.
Love Mom
Carmen M. Colon is a mother, an engineer, an education and childrens advocate, an author and a workshop facilitator on the topics of leadership, womens empowerment, career advancement and now on parenting. She is writing a series of "Dear Kids" letters to her three sons on a series of topics and issues.
Her website is http://carmenmcolon.info
Her books can be found online: http://amazon.com/author/carmencolon
Mother to three amazing self sufficient civic minded sons. Devin Christopher, 24, Fashion Designer, college student in NYC and youngest athletic director ever hired at a major sports complex in NYC. Antonio Fernandez, 20, choreographer, dancer, model, college student in NYC, has already performed with Cyndi Lauper at the Beacon Theatre and simply ready for his close-up. Taylor Aidan, almost 18 (at this release), HS Senior in NYC, amazing singer who is studying to be the next greatest sign language interpreter the world's ever known. (DISCLAIMER: Ok, mom wrote that.)
Mommy has always been a "fatty". I do not know what it is like to grow up thin or fit, I was that pudgy girl that was teased and stared at in school. To this day some of my elders take joy in retelling stories about how voracious my appetite was as a child. I hate those stories. But the truth is I am emotional eater and so when that line about "you are what you eat" came about I looked in the mirror and wondered, "is this what a pork shoulder really looks like?"
Over the course of all these decades I only now realized just how in control of ourselves we really are. After all, we ate when we were happy, when we were sad, angry, frustrated and we definitely ate when we were bored! It didn't help things that my two favorite past times had absolutely nothing to do with being physically active! I loved reading and watching television! I loved the two distractions that taught me how to dream as well as hide.
Let me tell you something about being bullied in school because I was different from the other kids. Back in my day (goodness I can not believe I have to write that sometimes!) being heavy was unusual. I was the biggest kid by those standards and yet today I'd probably be in the middle of the pack. Yet kids are cruel and they learn that cruelty at home sometimes because their frustrated parents get diarrhea of the mouth and let it all hang out in front of the kids. You know what I'm talking about, your mom's not immune. There are those days mom comes in bitching about some reckless driver or the nut who didn't clean up after themselves at the office break room. I get judgmental when I'm frustrated, I'm human. Yet I'm reminded of the days when boys teased me and girls were so mean to me, simply because I was larger than them.
You know Mom is better for it now don't you? You've heard me say, "Mom's larger than life! Of course she has to be a bit bigger than the rest!" I am much happier with my body nowadays, although I still find myself grimacing at photographs! (yes believe it, smart alecks) It took me 47 years to realize that how I was feeling was how I was feeding myself. Now bullying is a whole other sets of letters believe you me but self esteem and self awareness are things I hope I've taught you all well enough so that you don't have to endure all the suffering I did within my very own head.
The power is yours. It always has been. The power to believe what you're told by others lies with you. The power to start a bad habit or stop one is yours. The power to believe what people say about you because you're different lies in your head, in your heart. Yes, we can buy that five pound tub of ice cream but what's the rule? One cup a day, if that, and never to self medicate ourselves because we're feeling something very strongly. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the same with wine but I'm not on that topic now am I!
Of course all of this seems reasonable until you're besieged with name calling or dirty looks in school or at the office. Then your body starts freaking out and you want to hide and sometimes there simply is nowhere to hide so you hide in that tub of ice cream.
Your big brother went on an interview the other day and was asked what type of food are you. (First of all what Human Resources person comes up with these questions? Who are they channeling? Barbara Walters during her brain fart moment when she asked Katherine Hepburn if you were a tree what type of tree would you be???) But my darling eldest said he was celery and his reasoning behind it made me proud. (the fact that you are as slim as one sometimes gets on my nerves but we all can't be this amazing and curvaceous can we Beulah) He said he was healthy and mobile. Like celery. Goodness my son is brilliant. He equated his food as the resource it was, explained its functionality and its appeal. Pure genius, I'd hire him.
As I sit here, looking at my one egg and tomato omelette on toast I am reminded of those feelings being squelched after the first mouthful. I am reminded of a sense of love practically warming my young unknowing frame as I went through that pint of Haagan Daz after the last break up. Well,at least I loved me as I ate it to medicate my senses and put salve on my bruised ego. And this was just last year!
You are all coming to those wonderful ages of 18, 21 and 25! (Translation: Mommy is free! Kinda, sorta) I watch how you eat and if I haven't taught you how to care for yourselves by now I never will. You all eat in moderation, for the most part. You all have your indulging moments but I see you reward yourselves and so I know it's more of a present than a punishment. It's good to see how Mommy has handled things and then talk about it right! Those nights mom cried into her Lamb Korma, or Shrimp Scampi, or Tuna Sushi Rolls, hey, mom loves food! Or when I was pouring over IRS forms (last week) and was eyeing that Carvel Cake commercial like it was porn! Did you know that small Carvel Cakes are now $20! Goodness, are the milk prices that high in Carvel Land, what the hell!!
Mom's eating habits have gotten much much better and you know what, so has her outlook. I eat to live and while I love to eat, I plan for those times when I want to indulge in sinfully wonderful tasting foods. I try to examine when I'm in a foul mood or just moody period. Most of the time it's an old insecurity rearing its ugly head and I have to talk myself off that ledge. We all want to be loved and appreciated, to be respected and to feel relevant and needed. We give those distinctions to ourselves boys, not other people. We certainly don't get what we want from others out of a food container (or a bottle) either.
You all are so handsome and healthy in your long, lanky and lean frames and the chunky little girl in me is so glad that you don't have to endure what I did, what I sometimes still feel like in my own skin. You don't have that fear of being rejected or looked at as being weak or less appealing. Life is funny, human beings even funnier. For that is good in the world people would rather put high marks on body size than on what a person contributes to their every day life and those around them.
Thank goodness you are all so much better at it than your Mom. So go on and be that celery and be healthy! Mom's working on it and she's right now trying to look like a very sexy veggie/fruit smoothie, in a figure eight glass of course. I'm actually enjoying the freedom and the power to choose the foods I'm taking in and not giving into the feelings that come across my brain every day.
Oh by the way boys, someone has to go back to the store. We're out of ice cream.
Love Mom
Carmen M. Colon is a mother, an engineer, an education and childrens advocate, an author and a workshop facilitator on the topics of leadership, womens empowerment, career advancement and now on parenting. She is writing a series of "Dear Kids" letters to her three sons on a series of topics and issues.
Her website is http://carmenmcolon.info
Her books can be found online: http://amazon.com/author/carmencolon
Mother to three amazing self sufficient civic minded sons. Devin Christopher, 24, Fashion Designer, college student in NYC and youngest athletic director ever hired at a major sports complex in NYC. Antonio Fernandez, 20, choreographer, dancer, model, college student in NYC, has already performed with Cyndi Lauper at the Beacon Theatre and simply ready for his close-up. Taylor Aidan, almost 18 (at this release), HS Senior in NYC, amazing singer who is studying to be the next greatest sign language interpreter the world's ever known. (DISCLAIMER: Ok, mom wrote that.)
Dear Sons, Kids Are Spending HOW MUCH MONEY? That's Not Even Their Name On It?!
Dear boys,
Look, I was your age once and stop rolling your eyes at me because I was. Let me tell you about a pair of "jelly" shoes that your mom wanted. These shoes were see through and plastic and really when I think about it, kinda ugly. But you couldn't tell me anything at the time because it seemed as if every girl wanted a pair and I wanted to fit in, to be like everyone in the crowd and to have my own. Now your grandpa, who I still swear was switched a few years ago by pod people (ask Donald Sutherland and Brooke Adams, they'll know) always told me clothes and shoes were uniforms. He would schedule, based on the seasons, when to purchase our clothes according to our needs. Let me tell you, there was NO retail therapy going on at our house! Clothes were for specific purposes and play clothes were just worn out clothes that no longer served their purpose. Sooooo, my siblings and I received "school clothes", "church clothes", "special event clothes" as needed. No one was going to tell dad to please buy them the latest shoes because they wanted to be stylish. Heck, dad's response was always, "when you work you can buy yourself whatever you want, you'll have earned it. For now, I say you wear what you need."
Wow, I look back at those time and I remember feeling so dejected and distressed because some kids at school seemed to have more uniform choices than I did. But I look at the kids now and my mouth opens to the point I know flies are planning their vacations around me. So, these jellys right. They were ugly, I'm going to be upfront about it but I wanted them and I was determined to get a pair. I hounded my dad for weeks, put on the waterworks and just outright begged. OMG! (Goodness, how easily I revert to 21st Century text speak) Yes! My father breaks down and buys me a pair! And you know what? They were uncomfortable as heck, they weren't all that attractive and I think wore them once and never looked at them again. My father sat me down and explained that the $9.99 he spent was equivalent to about two hours of work for him. It blew my mind! All I could think about was how my dad was working for two hours and in all that time all he had to show for it was my ugly pair of jellys that I didn't even wear. I think I cried. I sure as hell never forgot and when I got my first job and went buck wild shopping and spending my hard earned $2 an hour wages on crap my dad reminded me about those jellys.
Now you know your mom and you know I've spent A LOT OF hard earned money on crap. Can we say "Retail Therapy"? (Call Alice, my shrink) Sometimes I can show what I've done with it and sometimes I shake my head at how I wasted serious cash on indulging my ego and inner child. I see young people wanting things not within their means and for all the wrong reasons and while I'm not as strict as your grandpa - pre-pod abduction of course - I do try to remind you that when you take those Summer jobs you make fiscally responsible choices, not only for your sakes but for your future needs.
Now ever since my financial advisor Candi Sparks entered our lives over 15 years ago, around the time your mom had to be on public assistance because times were hard, I've always tried to learn how to manage my resources better. Cash, moolah, duckets, paper, it's all currency and it's all simply a resource, a tool. Don't try to live to make it, don't let one tool overshadow all the amazing other things life has to offer and no I'm not talking about the next designer jacket. I've been pretty blessed. You all took it well when you were younger and I explained that mommy only had a set amount of dollars per week. I showed you the bills as they came in and I showed you how some could be paid and some would take time and effort. You were so mature and amazingly understanding when lights and heat went off and we lived by candlelight for a while. You would go to Payless Shoes or Conway Department Stores and never complained as we found sturdy long lasting items for you and me. It was as if the light bulb had gone off in your head. Yes! Mom would work 40 hours a week to acquire money and that money had to be stretched to pay the utilities, the food, the transportation (the Silver Bullet to us!) and our 'uniforms'.
I watch you all now and I see when you have that gleam in your eyes and splurge for yourselves. You've earned those instances many times over, as I watch you compare items when you shop online and I watch you weigh whether to put off a purchase until the semester is over. I am so proud that while you all have amazingly exquisite tastes you take care of your bills first. (I'll take some credit for that, after all I taught you quality before popularity and classic items never goes our of style and fads will surely always result in that retro picture you wish you hadn't taken) I marvel at how great you all are when you come asking for money and relay to me the depth of thought you put into the purchase you want help with. Even your designer choices make sense and you buy those items on your own, with the money you've earned.
I feel bad about the kids who don't plan, who don't understand the value of the dollars they are spending or the amount of energy expended to acquire that dollar. Designer stuff is nice but you can't live on those clothes if you're about to be evicted for not paying your rent or mortgage. Don't even get me starting on the hoarding of crap and clothes out in this country right now too! Where will they keep it all? Is that what their lives amounted to? Having tons of stuff and clothes? Will cemeteries start selling storage space for it all as well? Shoot, I'm in the wrong business then!
So, as you've all begun to embark on your lives as adult men (I am so in awe of all of you my darlings, how proud I am to be your mom) I want you to keep doing what you're doing and weigh in those lessons you learned from your elders, like Titi Candi and Titi Maddy. (Titi is Spanish for aunt) I've seen some "jellys" in your closets but I smile. We all need at least one, if only just to remind us of how silly we can be when we want something we don't really need.
Also feel free to pool your duckets together come Mothers Day, because Mom likes trips now, not shoes.
Love you boys!
Love Mom
Carmen M. Colon is a mother, an engineer, an education and childrens advocate, an author and a workshop facilitator on the topics of leadership, womens empowerment, career advancement and now on parenting. She is writing a series of "Dear Kids" letters to her three sons on a series of topics and issues.
Her website is http://carmenmcolon.info
Her books can be found online: http://amazon.com/author/carmencolon
Mother to three amazing self sufficient civic minded sons. Devin Christopher, 24, Fashion Designer, college student in NYC and youngest athletic director ever hired at a major sports complex in NYC. Antonio Fernandez, 20, choreographer, dancer, model, college student in NYC, has already performed with Cyndi Lauper at the Beacon Theatre and simply ready for his close-up. Taylor Aidan, almost 18 (at this release), HS Senior in NYC, amazing singer who is studying to be the next greatest sign language interpreter the world's ever known. (DISCLAIMER: Ok, mom wrote that.)
Look, I was your age once and stop rolling your eyes at me because I was. Let me tell you about a pair of "jelly" shoes that your mom wanted. These shoes were see through and plastic and really when I think about it, kinda ugly. But you couldn't tell me anything at the time because it seemed as if every girl wanted a pair and I wanted to fit in, to be like everyone in the crowd and to have my own. Now your grandpa, who I still swear was switched a few years ago by pod people (ask Donald Sutherland and Brooke Adams, they'll know) always told me clothes and shoes were uniforms. He would schedule, based on the seasons, when to purchase our clothes according to our needs. Let me tell you, there was NO retail therapy going on at our house! Clothes were for specific purposes and play clothes were just worn out clothes that no longer served their purpose. Sooooo, my siblings and I received "school clothes", "church clothes", "special event clothes" as needed. No one was going to tell dad to please buy them the latest shoes because they wanted to be stylish. Heck, dad's response was always, "when you work you can buy yourself whatever you want, you'll have earned it. For now, I say you wear what you need."
Wow, I look back at those time and I remember feeling so dejected and distressed because some kids at school seemed to have more uniform choices than I did. But I look at the kids now and my mouth opens to the point I know flies are planning their vacations around me. So, these jellys right. They were ugly, I'm going to be upfront about it but I wanted them and I was determined to get a pair. I hounded my dad for weeks, put on the waterworks and just outright begged. OMG! (Goodness, how easily I revert to 21st Century text speak) Yes! My father breaks down and buys me a pair! And you know what? They were uncomfortable as heck, they weren't all that attractive and I think wore them once and never looked at them again. My father sat me down and explained that the $9.99 he spent was equivalent to about two hours of work for him. It blew my mind! All I could think about was how my dad was working for two hours and in all that time all he had to show for it was my ugly pair of jellys that I didn't even wear. I think I cried. I sure as hell never forgot and when I got my first job and went buck wild shopping and spending my hard earned $2 an hour wages on crap my dad reminded me about those jellys.
Now you know your mom and you know I've spent A LOT OF hard earned money on crap. Can we say "Retail Therapy"? (Call Alice, my shrink) Sometimes I can show what I've done with it and sometimes I shake my head at how I wasted serious cash on indulging my ego and inner child. I see young people wanting things not within their means and for all the wrong reasons and while I'm not as strict as your grandpa - pre-pod abduction of course - I do try to remind you that when you take those Summer jobs you make fiscally responsible choices, not only for your sakes but for your future needs.
Now ever since my financial advisor Candi Sparks entered our lives over 15 years ago, around the time your mom had to be on public assistance because times were hard, I've always tried to learn how to manage my resources better. Cash, moolah, duckets, paper, it's all currency and it's all simply a resource, a tool. Don't try to live to make it, don't let one tool overshadow all the amazing other things life has to offer and no I'm not talking about the next designer jacket. I've been pretty blessed. You all took it well when you were younger and I explained that mommy only had a set amount of dollars per week. I showed you the bills as they came in and I showed you how some could be paid and some would take time and effort. You were so mature and amazingly understanding when lights and heat went off and we lived by candlelight for a while. You would go to Payless Shoes or Conway Department Stores and never complained as we found sturdy long lasting items for you and me. It was as if the light bulb had gone off in your head. Yes! Mom would work 40 hours a week to acquire money and that money had to be stretched to pay the utilities, the food, the transportation (the Silver Bullet to us!) and our 'uniforms'.
I watch you all now and I see when you have that gleam in your eyes and splurge for yourselves. You've earned those instances many times over, as I watch you compare items when you shop online and I watch you weigh whether to put off a purchase until the semester is over. I am so proud that while you all have amazingly exquisite tastes you take care of your bills first. (I'll take some credit for that, after all I taught you quality before popularity and classic items never goes our of style and fads will surely always result in that retro picture you wish you hadn't taken) I marvel at how great you all are when you come asking for money and relay to me the depth of thought you put into the purchase you want help with. Even your designer choices make sense and you buy those items on your own, with the money you've earned.
I feel bad about the kids who don't plan, who don't understand the value of the dollars they are spending or the amount of energy expended to acquire that dollar. Designer stuff is nice but you can't live on those clothes if you're about to be evicted for not paying your rent or mortgage. Don't even get me starting on the hoarding of crap and clothes out in this country right now too! Where will they keep it all? Is that what their lives amounted to? Having tons of stuff and clothes? Will cemeteries start selling storage space for it all as well? Shoot, I'm in the wrong business then!
So, as you've all begun to embark on your lives as adult men (I am so in awe of all of you my darlings, how proud I am to be your mom) I want you to keep doing what you're doing and weigh in those lessons you learned from your elders, like Titi Candi and Titi Maddy. (Titi is Spanish for aunt) I've seen some "jellys" in your closets but I smile. We all need at least one, if only just to remind us of how silly we can be when we want something we don't really need.
Also feel free to pool your duckets together come Mothers Day, because Mom likes trips now, not shoes.
Love you boys!
Love Mom
Carmen M. Colon is a mother, an engineer, an education and childrens advocate, an author and a workshop facilitator on the topics of leadership, womens empowerment, career advancement and now on parenting. She is writing a series of "Dear Kids" letters to her three sons on a series of topics and issues.
Her website is http://carmenmcolon.info
Her books can be found online: http://amazon.com/author/carmencolon
Mother to three amazing self sufficient civic minded sons. Devin Christopher, 24, Fashion Designer, college student in NYC and youngest athletic director ever hired at a major sports complex in NYC. Antonio Fernandez, 20, choreographer, dancer, model, college student in NYC, has already performed with Cyndi Lauper at the Beacon Theatre and simply ready for his close-up. Taylor Aidan, almost 18 (at this release), HS Senior in NYC, amazing singer who is studying to be the next greatest sign language interpreter the world's ever known. (DISCLAIMER: Ok, mom wrote that.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
